


Deliverance

by beetle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the slashthedrabble prompt "fast".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deliverance

**Author's Note:**

> Notes/Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for S3.

You mock at me, a lost, skulking evil that is little more than a pathetic caricature of the filth that has groomed you these many years.  
  
  
“Well, looky who's here, and only  _ten. Fucking. Years. Too. Late_ ,” you grate through a bloody, hideous grin. Perdition-black eyes glare balefully out of a face that's little more than an eternally festering wound. You sidle closer, the miasma of your rotting soul cloaking you in dark, feverish power that is no match for the Message I bear. “We definitely don't take kindly to no Jay-hovah's Witnesses comin' down here, fly-b--”  
  
  
“Be silent.” In the light of my Grace, you hiss and flinch back. Away from what I offer, what I Represent. The stink of your damnation is leavened with shame, and despair I can taste like a coating of gall and brimstone at the back of my throat.  
  
  
The Lord moves my heart, softens it toward you.  
  
  
“Through your works, you may yet be redeemed,” I offer gently. Still my voice causes you to crouch and moan. “I can deliver you to Him, once again.”  
  
  
This time, when I reach out you do not flinch, but blink warily at me, abyssal eyes filling with the dwindling vestiges of what once shined forth from you like a beacon.  
  
  
“Sammy.” Your ruined voice carries the tatters of a more . . . human love than I meant to invoke, yet no less powerful to have survived your time here. The guttering . . .  _quality_  that is the man's most precious gift from the Creator shines forth as glorious light for but a moment only, and I am dimmed in comparison.   
  
  
Humbled by this . . . human love, left reverent and kneeling in its wake.  
  
  
“Yes. To him, too.” My shaking hand settles on your shoulder, and the necro-flesh under my hand sizzles. Cold races up my arm, speeding its way to my Grace by the fastest, deadliest routes, and I cry out a Hosanna of agony and redemption.  
  
  
 _All praise be unto Him! Unto His merciful Scourge, His cleansing Fire! Glory to God, for His Mark is upon you, now!_  
  
  
At once, a great chorus of rage such as I've never heard echoes throughout the Pit: familiar Voices once dear to me in purer times now long past. Oh, Adimus, Lailah, Eiael! My benighted brothers. . . !  
  
  
Though I bear His Message, I cannot single-handedly save, or fight the Legions, and their abominable hybrids. We must  _fly_ , you and I.  
  
  
So I grip you tight and spread my wings.  
  
  
The pleas of the damned chase us hence--no closer to Salvation than they were an eon ago--unable to match our speed. As we rise together, a great joy once more frees the Hosanna Invoked during my Creation. The tone of it ascends from valley to mountaintop:  
  
  
 _Praise be unto Him from Whose Light I am Formed! Praise Him, in Whose Service I shall labor forever!_  
  
  
We have much, much work ahead of us, Dean . . . you and I.


End file.
